I'm Sassy and I Know It

Life around here has been pretty good lately. My foot has been healing nicely, and I've walked all week without my orthopedic shoe. I'm down to just some discomfort and moving at a normal pace. You just have to ignore that slight hitch in my gait. And I'm wearing very flat shoes. Not that I wore tall ones before, but my foot seems to be more stable throughout the day if I just keep it very flat. As in very little arch support. The ER doctor thought I tore a ligament, but Dr. Hula thinks she just pulled it because it has healed very fast, and the pain tapered off early in the process. I may even try (gasp) a little running this weekend. I have to get my fanny in gear. I agreed to be a part of a relay team for the Iron Mom half marathon in early May. Go moms! Forgive me, I'm on a bit of a pro woman rant these days. I have to quit reading so much political news. This war on women by certain politicians around the country has me ALL fired up, and I'm really becoming most annoying to certain members of my household. Along with some of my dancing habits. Somebody tell me. Why is my 19-year old offspring so troubled by me singing "I'm Sexy and I Know It" while dancing like a naked M&M? I don't get it. Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle.


Anyhoo. Each of the Hula-gen's is in a fairly smooth pattern of work, household chores and taking care of Papa T. Teen Angel also has school, which is boring her silly this semester because it's all gen ed classes in which she has little interest. Like economics and math. Sorry baby, you get that from me. My freshman economics class made me want to poke out my eyes with dull pencils. I made an A, but it really had more to do with the notes I charmed from a boyfriend who had that same class a few months before me. It certainly wasn't because I read my econ book with rapt interest. My rapt interest was saved for the boyfriend. Given the way that relationship ended, I should have probably just read the book.

Teen Angel's jobs soak up most of her extra time, which leaves little room for the opposite sex, and that makes her dad most happy, as he's still living under the delusion she will willingly refrain from dating until age 23 and that no male over the age of fourteen is looking at her chest. I've tried to explain to him that young girls ALWAYS find room for the opposite sex, but he likes living in the Land of Make Believe, so I've given up on that conversation.

She is putting all of her restaurant tip money in our Mason jar of Europe savings, and that's starting to add up, so we've started reading about Italy and begun the time consuming process of figuring out an itinerary and the logistics and costs involved. By "we" I mean I've started the logistics, and she's picking the things she wants to do. And I'm not namin' any names, but somebody around here needs to be winnin' the lottery if we're going to see all she wants to see. And yes, I spent $2 on Mega Millions tickets for tonight's drawing because $2 will NOT get you a gondola ride in Venice.

All of the money I make on photography gigs this year is going into that Mason jar, so I've been booking shoots for the summer months. I have three weddings and several family shoots planned. I'm trying to keep a schedule that's profitable but not overwhelming. The weddings are a lot of work, but I really do enjoy being a part of that kind of celebration. I think it's pretty cool when someone lets me witness that time in their life so intimately, even if I'm exhausted at the end of the day. I met with one of the couples the other night to finalize arrangements, and they were so cute. It reminds of the days when Hubby and I first fell in love, and we were so wide eyed and idealistic about marriage. Hee, hee.

The extra early spring season we're having means Hubby has started his yard work a little earlier than usual. Which suits his compulsive mowing habit just fine. He and the next door neighbor have this unspoken competition about who mows first each work and who puts the straightest lines in the grass. It's Mr. McD-1, Hubby-0 as my husband has already torn up one mower and one tiller. The man has three mowers, a passel of weed eaters and all kinds of general motorized yard tools. They are all fairly new. The man does not have junk. And while most people use one mower for several years, give it a little maintenance and manage to have no problems, my husband tears up lawn implements on a regular basis. I'm not even kidding about that. I'm sure the lawn mower mechanic at the local hardware store took his family to Gulf Shores last year on the money he made off of our mower issues. Hubby cranked up a mower Monday, traveled a short ways across the yard, and the blade fell off. The tiller quit on him yesterday when he tried to till up the garden spot. He claims it's just bad luck, but since most people don't have that much bad luck I'm going with "he just tears s**t up". And the fact that it's already begun is a sure sign spring is in the air. Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle!

Birth of a Bloom

I love dogwoods.  I think I get that from Mama.   I remember when I was a kid how she used to fawn over the dogwoods each spring and talk about how they represent the cross.  I think it's lovely the way the blooms unfold and thrust their centers toward the sky.  They dance daintily on the branches, with all of those little blooms blending together to give the tree a bit of an Impressionist look from a distance.  In recent years though, I've come to appreciate the dogwood blooms in their earliest stages.  I just love them as they begin to burst open.  But then again, I love anything that does the dance of spring.

Spring Fling

Recently I wandered into the local skate park because it was abuzz with young people doing flips and turns and jumps of all kinds. I don't know if the sunshine put a spring in their whizz bang doodly doo or what, but they were all over the place, and they were flinging themselves all over the place. It was pretty cool, and I could have stayed longer, but apparently, when you show up with a camera, park security will make you sit AWAY from the concrete, lecture you on wearing a HELMET in the skate zone and stand BESIDE you until you're finished shooting. Even if the kids, all over the age of fourteen, don't mind having their picture taken.  Silly me, I figured security would be busy chasing off the perverts that hang around the ball fields trying to hook up with strangers for sex in view of playing children. I guess not.


Anyway, my overall thought when I left? Wow, Hula, don't you wish you were as flexible as you used to be around age seventeen?

Quotography-"Spring"

There are so many wonderful quotes about spring.  It's just a glorious time that makes we want to run barefoot through the new soft grass, smelling the damp earth and raising my face to the warm sun.  It lifts my spirits, gives me hope and reminds me that there is always another opportunity to renew one's self if he's only willing.  I truly love spring and the courage it gives me to come alive in so many ways.  It is a gift I try never to take for granted. 

For the other great quotes, stop by here.

Oh, joy!

Spring really has sprung around these parts.  About a month early.  Everything but the dogwoods are in full bloom, and they can't be far behind.  In the past week, everything has seemed so much greener.  It just makes my heart so full.  I can't begin to describe how joyous spring makes me feel. 

Happy St. Patrick's Day, y'all!



The Spring in my Step

Spring seems especially beautiful to me this year. The greens are so vivid, the whites so bright and the blooms so bountiful. Daily, I marvel at the colors. In just a two block area of my regular running route, there are numerous dogwoods, the most fragrant lilac bush and a patch of multi-colored tulips that stretches for a third of a block. I drink it in every time I go by there and smile at the taste. I’ve always enjoyed spring, but this year I have reveled in it and rejoiced at its beauty. For the last couple of weeks, I have relished each day and felt truly alive. Joyous even. My heart hasn’t been this light in months, and I rather like it.

I’ve always liked spring and the way it washes away winter’s bitterness, but this year I seem to have a better appreciation for the beauty and hope that it brings. Some of it may be due to the harshness of this past winter, and viewing it through the narrowness of a camera lens has certainly helped. But I think the biggest reason I am feeling spring so deeply this year is because of where I’m at in my grief over Sissy’s death.

April 21st will mark the first anniversary of her suicide. That’s one week from now. In recent weeks, I’ve tried not to think about that date much. It hovers in the back of my mind, though. It’s always there, running through my brain during quiet times. Like in the morning darkness when I’m walking the dog and the neighborhood is asleep. Or at night when I lay in bed in the room where she used to sleep. I rarely cry during those times. Mostly I just feel regret for the way her life ended and for the way our relationship withered near the end. I find myself sighing a lot during those times.

I can’t believe a year has already passed. Time has flown, but I’ve made a lot of progress in recovering from her decision to leave us. The tears only come when I stumble across a certain family photo or hear a particular song. There is a song we sing in church sometimes, Spirit Song, which makes me think of Sissy and choke up. The words in that song are the wish I held for her for so long before she died.

O let Him have those things that hold you
And His Spirit like a dove
Will descend upon your life
And make you whole

O give Him all your tears and sadness
Give Him all your years of pain
And you'll enter into life
In Jesus' name

It’s kind of ironic that we sang it this past Sunday.

Suicide usually leaves families asking why. Why did the person do it? Why wasn’t their family enough? I don’t have to ask why Sissy killed herself. I know why. She couldn’t stand the pain of losing her son. I’m convinced she started dying the day her son died. She spent nine long years trying to swim out of the grief and never could. She finally let the waves take her. That’s an answer I don’t have to search for, and for that I’m grateful. That knowledge allows me to move forward and keeps me from being angry about her decision.

A few months ago, someone asked me, “Don’t you wish you could have her back?” I can’t comfortably answer that because she’s at peace now, and she often told me she just wanted to be at peace. The decision to live or die was hers to make, not mine. I’m not condoning what she did. I just don’t judge her too harshly. I miss her with all my heart, but having her here in pain would be selfish of me. The reality is I had prepared myself for her death months before she actually died. It didn’t lesson the pain of her death, but it started my grieving process long before she jumped from that bridge.

Some of her behaviors in the last months of her life caused us to separate ourselves from her for our emotional and physical well being. That decision caused a lot of angry feelings toward us by other family members and we are still dealing with their anger. That is painful, but I do not regret our decision to stop enabling Sissy to succumb to the demons of her illnesses. In the past year I have accepted that I don’t have to have anyone’s approval for our decisions. I just have to live with the consequences. We simply try very hard not to say or do anything to cause any more pain to people in our family and avoid situations that might erupt in harsh words. I wish some family members would do the same. They don’t. I have a lot of conversations with God about this.

Suicide leaves a wide wake of pain in its path. It’s a unique grief. People don’t know what to say, so they avoid talking about it period. It’s a lonely grief. I’d say this branch of the Hula-gen’s has done about as well as we can with it. It has certainly accelerated Papa T.’s dementia. I worry about the lasting effects all of this will have on Teen Angel and we suffer from “always waiting for the other shoe to drop” syndrome. Once you’ve had a deputy at your door in the middle of the night, you tend to expect bad news all the time, especially when you have ailing parents. But all in all, we’ve done a great deal of healing. We can tell funny stories about Sissy and laugh. We can talk with Papa T. and Mama J. about some of Sissy’s worst moments without shouts or tears. And we work through each day with intensity and a newfound respect for each precious moment. That’s why I find myself driving home these days with the windows down, smiling and singing loudly I’m Alive over and over with Kenny Chesney.

And today you know that’s good enough for me
Breathin' in and out's a blessing can’t you see
Today is the first day of the rest of my life
Now I’m alive, and well
Yeah I’m alive, and well

The beauty in nature these days reminds me that I am indeed alive and well. I feel very alive. I am content in my love for Sissy and my acceptance of her death. Sissy always liked bright colors. I see her in that patch of tulips I run past each day. And I smile.

Fun Monday-Spring Photo Challenge

I haven't done Fun Monday in a while, but I am this week because it involves two of my favorite things: Spring and photography. Jan is our lovely Hostess with The Mostess this week, and she wants us to take a picture of what Spring represents to us. Well, I've been all over the Spring blooms this year, and I have a ton of photos to choose from, (I think I'm up to more than 100) but I went back into the archives and selected one from last year.

It's one of my favorites, and it sings Spring to me for several reasons. It was taken among my peony bushes, and peonies are one of my favorite flowers. I love that you can cut three or four of them and have a beautiful bouquet. I don't even mind the ants that usually follow the bouquet into the house. The flowers are big and bold and beautiful, and I truly love it when they bloom. I'm actually hoping we don't sell our old house where they're planted until after they've bloomed.

I love the colors in this photo, too. Spring is so full of pastels and vivid greens. To me, there is no greener green than that of brand new grass and foliage as it pushes through winter's mask in March. It makes me feel good to look at the greens and yellows and pinks and purples of the season, and I smile at the colors in this photo. I smile at the bloom that's barely opened, too. Kind of symbolic of the season, don't cha' think?

I also like it because of the raindrops. What's Spring without rain? Lots of rain any other time of year would annoy me. But not in Spring. That's because I know what follows: sun, glorious sun. And warmer temperatures. Spring gives me hope, and that my friends, makes the rain worth weathering, I believe. Pun intended.

Now, trot on over to Jan's and see everyone else's pictures. That's where I'm headed.

Can You Feel It?

This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.

How many times have I sang, said or heard that and really thought about it or really meant it? Probably not that many if I’m really honest with myself. It’s like a lot of other phrases that are easy to use to the point they become rote or trite. That phrase rambled through my head at 5:45 this morning when I was walking the dog, and I realized late today that I really meant it this time.

I hate getting up at 5:30am. It’s an absurd hour for a naturally slow riser like me, but it’s the small price I pay for a wonderful job that I love and allows me to put my child through college. Every morning, I stand in the semi-darkness, yawning and waiting for the dog to choose between the light pole and the mailbox (how can it be THAT difficult), and I listen to the silence of that hour. In the winter, it’s so quiet it’s sometimes eerie. This morning though, I noticed the birds. They’re back, chirping and warbling their messages between trees. They tell me spring is on its way. I’ve missed them in recent months, but they arrived sometime in the past week, and their noises were good.

On my way to work I saw a marvelous sky, foretelling the warm weather and sunshine that lay ahead on this day. Louis Armstrong’s version of It’s a Wonderful World shuffled through my iPod and it seemed to fit the moment. It was good.

As I was running at lunch, I saw three tiny yellow blooms on a forsythia bush on one block and on another a patch of crocus in full bloom, its tiny purple blossoms washing their faces in the sunshine. And it was good.

A few minutes later, I passed the glistening steel letters on the sign in front of the Jewish temple. They seemed extra clean and shiny. That was good.

We’re having an unusually warm spell. Our high temperature was near 70 today. I ran in shorts and a t-shirt (sorry about the bright white legs, passersby), and I was hot and sweaty when I finished. Really sweaty. It made me feel very alive. Even that was good.

An unexpected bout of nausea I felt near the end of the run made me slow to a walk, but even that was good. It forced me to slow down and really notice my surroundings like the bright shoots of fresh grass popping through the ground and the elderly man gently pushing a baby in a stroller.

My work day was extremely productive. I finished some chores I really needed to get done. That was good.

Everything about this day, except for some chronic sinus issues, made me feel good. Everything around me sings of spring right now. I know we’re bound to have another cold spell soon. We always do near the end of March, but the end of winter is near. I can feel it. The signs are popping up everywhere. Even the air smells different these days.

I think God gives us spring to remind us to be hopeful. Springs teaches us that there is always another chance to wipe the slate clean and start over. That life is cyclical and eventually our troubles pass, giving way to patches of pleasantness. That good eventually follows bad. Spring is hope, and that’s why we like it. I believe each spring day is meant to be savored and appreciated for what it really is.

This is the day the Lord hath made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.

Let the Sunshine In

Mr. Sunshine came out today, for the first time since 1922. Well, for the first time in a couple of weeks, anyway. He went into hiding a while back and stayed gone a little too long. While we have more cruddy weather in this weekend’s forecast, it was nice to see him for a full day. It got all the way up to forty degrees, brothers and sisters. Forty degrees! We haven’t seen forty in a long time. I actually ran outside for the first time in a couple of weeks. I have been sticking to the treadmill ‘cause I can stand the cold but I can’t stand a broken ankle. The sidewalks have been a bit treacherous, and I simply don’t have time for crutches. Hello, taking care of old people over here! It felt good to raise my face to the sun and trot down the street wearing sunglasses. I had almost forgotten what it was like to wear them. Sniff. I got a little emotional just looking at the dried sweat on them.

People seemed a little friendlier today, so I’m guessing I wasn’t the only one who needed a break in the weather. This winter has been especially tiresome. Frankly, I can’t imagine what it must be like to live on the east coast these days, with all that snow. We can’t begin to compare our weather to theirs, but things have certainly been more wet and cold and snowy than usual around here. It has us summer babies screaming for some warmth. If it weren’t for Girl Scout cookies, I don’t know how I’d get through February. These days, I grab onto any sign of spring I can and hang onto it for dear life.

There are signs that spring isn’t far away. The clerk in CVS last night was stocking Easter candy and shoving the forlorn leftover Valentines to a corner shelf. (How sad is a leftover Valentine?) The consignment store up the street put spring clothing in their display window and Great Gertie! They announced the dates for the Jimmy Buffet tour this week! I have three options this year: St. Louis, Cincinnati and Nashville. Nashville! He hasn’t been to Nashville in years. Tickets go on sale Saturday, so I’ll be poised by the computer Saturday morning, right after I drop Mama J. off at the beauty shop for her wash and set, hoping to be one of the folks who land tickets during that ten minute window of opportunity before Ticketmaster slaps you with that Sold Out message. Those tickets would help me to make it through March. If I don’t get any, I’ll just have to resort to more Thin Mints and pictures of last year’s buds and blossoms.

Pray for me brothers and sisters. I need a little Margaritaville.

Party On!

"Spring is nature’s way of saying, “Let’s party.”
Robin Williams

From my camera this week:

Going Green

While I was stomping around whining about winter these last couple of weeks, I failed to notice something. A big something. Spring has started to arrive, and I’ve been stumbling over it like a blind woman. Little signs of new life are all around me, and I missed it until this past Tuesday. While I was walking the dog and waiting for him to PICK A SPOT TO POOP ALREADY IT’S THE SAME YARD YOU POOPED IN YESTERDAY AND THE DAY BEFORE, I noticed that the grass around the backyard path was greener. Noticeably greener. In fact, the whole yard was greener, so I took a second look around the yard and found all kinds of green things that made my flip flop lovin’ toes tingle. Like the blooms on the rose bushes. And the little shoots of tiger lilies.That odd little vine that shoots out of the fringe tree sprouted while I wasn’t looking.And so did the peony bushes. And grannie’s hydrangea.Those what-cha-ma-call-its that look like brussel sprouts are really sprouting.But so are the weeds. Man, do I need to clean out some flower beds. Oh, wait. I have a husband whose retired and can do that. Hula, make a note about that.
You’ve heard the phrase “Happy as a pig in Sunshine”? This little pig is happy in his bed of flowering weeds. And I almost got down in the dirt and rolled with him when I saw how many of these we had.As usual, the good Lord had answered a prayer for me and I was too busy wagging my tongue to notice. Surely, he won’t mind if I pretend not to notice the snow flurries that are dancing around all of that green stuff today.

The Evolution of Spring, Kentucky Style

On the second day of the week, the Lord made spring. 77 degrees and sunny. Hula ran in shorts and a t-shirt. And it was good. On the third day of the week, the Lord made winter…again. 35 degrees and a wee bit of sleet.Hula ran in full UnderArmor, gloves and a sock cap. And it was bad.On the fourth day of the week, the Lord made sinus medicine. Potent and tinged with acetaminophen.
Hula took it because her head felt like this. On the fifth day of the week Hula moved to Arizona. And it was good.

*Images courtesy of: oksenate.gov, maa.org, falk.com, ratemyfrown.com and willcountyema.org.

Running A Temperature

Holy moly! Sweet mother of Mabel! Check this out. Weather.com said our high temperature today was 71 stinkin’ degrees. Sweeeet. I ran outside today at lunch for the first time since before the ice storm…and wore shorts. Yes, shorts. And let me take just a moment to apologize to the people driving up and down our city streets at noon today for the pearly whiteness of my legs. The sun was peeking through the clouds and it was warm. I sweated like a thief in Sunday school. Great, big stinky drops and I loved it. I had to dodge only four piles of storm debris, and I had more energy than I’ve had in a while. I did startle two tourists in our downtown area when I rounded a corner and hollered, “Whoot!” at them. No wonder people are scared of southerners.

And guess what. Tomorrow? 76 degrees. Ha! This weather is a balm to my spirit. A salve to my soul. A boost to my droopy attitude. It tells me that spring WILL come after all. That winter’s end is drawing near, and flip-flop weather is soon to follow. And all those names I’ve been calling Mother Nature lately? I take them all back. I guess she’s not a total wench after all.

A Little Fringe on Top

One of my very favorite things about spring is this:



This fluffy little tree is actually several years old. It sits in our side yard near our neighbor's fence and sun porch. I love this little tree. It was here when we bought this house fourteen years ago. It's a fringe tree. What? You've never heard of a fringe tree? Well, me neither. Not until I moved here, and I've never seen another one. This little gal is absolutely beautiful this time of year. This picture doesn't do her justice. Take a few steps forward and get a closer look.



See all that fuzzy stuff? That's the fringe that pops out way after all the other trees have bloomed. Our little debutante likes all the attention. She waits patiently until the red buds and dogwoods have put on their show and dropped their blossoms. She sits there, day after day, holding her little buds tightly closed while we watch and wait, watch and wait, anxiously anticipating her annual debut. Just when we think she's never going to bloom, she pushes forth this long, fragrant fringe that droops like shredded coconut and sways in the spring breezes, sending her perfume across the yard and into our noses.



It's beautiful and kind of tropical. Her springtime dance lasts only a few days though, so we savor each one of them. She bloomed two days ago, and by Tuesday, she will probably be covered in just bright green leaves. We will mourn the passing of her blooms more than usual this year. Several weeks ago Hubby found a large dead spot in her midsection. We're doing everything we can to save her, but we're a little concerned she won't make it if we have our annual August drought. Keep your fingers crossed that she pulls through, and please tell me if you know anything about these little trees. Without her, I won't know when spring has arrived.